Silent Hill: The Truth?
by Abarai Renji
Summary: A twist on our favorite Silent Hill: The Room. The beginning is the same. The ending...will be much more different.
1. Chapter 1

For you, life is normal. Until one day, you find you can't escape your apartment. Room 302. You just moved there not long ago. You laugh, and dismiss it as a dream. This isn't a dream, you finally figure out. You have just woken up. To quite possibly, the end of life. At least, as you know it.

After a few hours, you're done checking out the house. The windows can't be cracked open, the door...the door just won't open. Then, the bathroom. A large hole, just large enough to squeeze through. Only one choice for freedom. Go through.

Welcome To: The Subway World.

And as you explore, you realize, it's just like Silent Hill, the town you lived in. Exact same landscape, same people...too many deaths.

And then, the insanity really sets in. As you explore the Subway, you meet a woman, quite stunning in her own aspect, and you agree to help her out. You realize, that's Cynthia, I know her. She lives in the apartment, too. Then...she dissapears. you're forced to explore alone, nothing but an iron bar against the supernatural, hellish forces that have already infested here in the most basic of ways.

You find a gun. Good. Then you realize, that while it may work against the freakish, mutated dogs, it won't do shit to the ghosts that come out of the bleeding walls. And you realize...even if you ran, you couldn't get out. It's like...a prison.

Through the subway. Got the keys. Find the office. Find...Cythina, nearly dead, drenched in her own blood, and with something seemingly meaningless carved in her chest. 16121.

Later, You'll remember an article from the paper that day. A man had been found, with the number carved in his chest. You put the two together, and realize, that whoever the killer is, has a plan for these people.

You cradle her life-fleeting body in your arms. The walls squirm, maybe it's only your eyes. Then, the body in your hand, in one second, goes from body to corpse. You run for the escalator. The tremors in the wall increase. They morph into human reminesnt figures, and sweep at you. More terrifying than any of the ghosts you might of found so far. They knock you on your feet, somehow...you wake up in your own bed.

You check the door. The windows. Any plausable way to get out. The door is chained, and in a message written in something that looks ominously like blood, it says, "Don't leave-Walter". You know it. Something here just ain't right. Welcome to...Silent Hill.

---

I...guessI just...woke up one day. Y'know? I had to tell someone...So I scratched this into the wall in hopes and dreams that somemone will save me. This...I guess I should start somewhere simple. This razor blade is dulling. Alright.

First of all, this is the town of Silent HIll. Though, manly, I'd like to replace Hill with Hell. For the last few weeks, it's become exactly that, just without fire, and...well, I couldn't say without demons. Some in disguise, some in their...natural forms, okay? Just bear with me. Please.

I came here about a month ago. Rented a house off the east corner, near Pete's Bowl-a-rama. Good place, okay food, nice people. This seemed, at first, like Humbletown, Heaven.

I guess the sides can change pretty damn quick without your knowledge. According to the notches I've left in the wall, it happened about a week after I arrived.

I was in my shower, and the water felt rusted. Okay? Not surprising, it happened frequently, the house was old, the plumbing ancient. I never had enough money to fix it...I better stop reminising. I couldn't give a shit about money right now. Even if I was rich, I'd still be stuck in this hellhole.

My name? Henry. Last name? Not important. Just need to know my tale of this horror, that's all you need to know. Maybe you'll make it out, if I don't. And if I do, this apartment...is burning to the ground. All the way down. I suppose you've heard my subway story. Time for the next installment, audience.

---

The hole. Still sitting in your bathroom, large, gaping, like the maw of some stupified, large, and ugly creature. With intent to kill whatever may of stupified it so. It got a little bigger. The remnants of the mirror lay on the ground. Reflecting a happier time? No. Just you, grim faced, handsome in some aspects, not so in others. A quiet guy, not really scared. Grew up well.

Hold onto that thought. And climb through the hole. One shuffling sound, moving forward in the long, black depth, vision as good as a scratchy film, light in some places, ripped and torn in others. The documentry of what your life is like, seems to be recording through your estranged vision.

You fall. Not far, just a foot or two. Onto the earth. Are you free? Of course not. No, the lovely town of Silent HIll couldn't have that. Armed with your fists, and nothing else, you're forced forward.

The crows circle in this midnight, macabe universe. What hellish power could of...created this?

You remember a slip of paper you found. Something saying about an abomination, a wolrd of abomination. Created outside the boundaries of God himself. How? Isn't he THE creator?

Guess you never know. The crows stop circling. Look at you funny. Dime bomb.

Arms slipping from your sides, you catch them unawares in a cockamame, almost half assed punch. They flutter to the ground, twitching, writhing. You stop on them. Best let these creatures die. Not make them suffer. Shoes wiped on the grass, you've got no choice. Forward, is your destination.

A car, abandoned. A few items, including a notepad. You glance at it, and stare. Simply...you just decide to continue. The notepad said it was Jasper Gein's. Walking forward, more crows had ambushed you earlier. The wounds started to sting. Ahead...is a man.

He stutters a lot. He's Jasper Gein. From the way he talks to the way he writes, that was innately apparant. You left him there. No choice. He was too scared to come along...

After more, you see a little boy. Cropped hair, looked about four or five. You step up to him. He says nothing, and you then notice Jasper. He's still stuttering.

There's a coffin. The number 11121 on it. And a door...with a strange symbol on it. Looks sorta like a halo. You leave, deeply disturbed by the numbers. Howls won't stop coming from the surrounding area. You think back to the apartment...and laughed. This had better be one elaborate dream.

Continue. That's the only thought. Jasper again. He said that someone gave him something "Really good", but it seems he won't talk. You try again, and he asks for choclate milK! You laugh at the way he said it, seemingly eager in this nightmare forest. You hand it over to hear what he has to say.

A blood inscribed spade. Ominous, to be sure. The trees seem to lean in, capturing every thought, and every whisper of hope that gets quieter every minute. Along the path of the Wish House.

"hands" seem to be sticking out of the ground. You laughed, raspy from not speaking much. You put the spade in...and the hand exchanges it for a key. A rusted, bloody key. You remember something from the Notepad...it'd be good to get rid of that key. But how? Just continue, that's all you can think of.

After a while, being cut up by the various denziens that resided here, you notice a perfect hole, with a red ring and ornate designs around it. You crawl through...back to the house. After some management, you put the key in the storage box, and crawl back through the hole.

Back to the Forest World.


	2. Hell: Paper or Plastic?

Into the hole, like Alice to Wonderland, without the fall. Only the grime of the hole to keep you company. The dank smell, soft dripping of the soiled water. Just bear through it. Right? Possibly. Come out on the other side. You're in a room, most likely. Cold walls, enclosing you. Pressing in. What is this...sudden feeling of claustrophobia?

You look, and see one of those mutated dogs. You thought up a name for them while lying in your bed, in that room. 302. Sniffers. The way they pressed the elongated, torn snouts to the ground, took a sniff, and their gigantic, ant-eater tounge whipped out inspired the simple but effective name.

Speaking of effectiveness, you had only that steel pipe, a wine bottle, and a simple pistol. And only two magazines of ammunitions. That was bad. Looks like you'd better find some more. Then, the Sniffer noticed you. As it looked at you, torn face and rotten eyes gazing unblinking, you laughed at it, and grabbed the pipe, waiting...waiting...and the dull thud of rotting flesh meeting steel pipe soon happened. The Sniffer didn't go down right away, not until you stood on it's neck, and slammed it's head with the pipe. Over, and over. And over. It was dead, now.

As you got a feeling for your surroundings, you realized you were in the Wish House, once an orphanage. For an orphanage...this was bleak. Blood matted the walls like some sort of sick wall painting disaster. The soft tip tip tip of the Sniffer soon reached your ears again. Cover was your only option. Because several more tip tip tips accompanied it. You could take down one, not three or four.

No choice, they had your smell. An idea, not too bad, came in mind. You stripped off your sweaty shirt, and threw it in front of them. All four of the Sniffers started tearing at it, and you ran. Ran like hell.

You were out of that room. Into another. The Heater room. Jasper seemed to be taking the meaning of the room too literally. He was burning alive, screaming in a tormented agony only matched by the soldiers of Hell. His flesh smoldered, but on his chest, were numbers. 17121. He had been rambling on about a Devil. Looks like he met it.

You couldn't stand the smell anymore. There was a hole in the wall, identical to the one you had crawled through before. What in hell's name WAS this world?

---

Back in room 302. I guess the forest world or whatnot was...too...creepy. And Jasper...burning alive. Maybe I should try the television again. Maybe it'll work this time.

The television crackled. An image of a body stretcher with a figure, draped in a white cloth from head to toe. Jasper. 

Goddamn...Everyone's getting killed, wherever I go! First, Cynthia, and now Jasper. What...in god's name...no, that's not it. What in the devil is going on here? I can't even smash open my window. Reminising won't do good. I already know what I CAN and CAN''T do. I better check around the house for something to bring to my next...excursion to, as I've started to affectionately call it, Silent HIll.

Around the house, my busy hands and eyes scurried, around every nook and cranny. I found something...disturbing. A peephole into room 303. Elieen's room. She sat there, in her silk nightgown, getting ready for bed. I yelled through it. She didn't hear. No choice, I looked a few seconds longer, then moved the object, a dresser of sorts, back in front of the peephole.

Back to the Hole.

To wherever Wonderland decides to drop me off.

Back to Hell.

---

Back to...a Supermarket? You looked around, and almost laughed. It seemed perfectly normal. Then you blinked, and in that blink, you looked past the veil of what had been. And saw the encrusted walls of caked filth, blood, and...stuff. Stuff so strange, you didn't know what it was. It looked like a fungus, but it...had eyes? Whatever those blood red, beady things were, they shifted to look at you. Unnervingly. With a strange sucking noise, they pulled themselves from whatever they were clinging to. They were clinging to a store attendant, his mouth filled with one of those mushroom heads. His eyes the same. Looked so disgusting, you couldn't find anything comical about it.

They shrinked from the wall, and ploped to the ground, as you looked skyward. The building's roof was beginning to be entangled with a sort of vines, fueled from the biological functions of humans. And a few of those Sniffer dogs, from the look of it. That wasn't too surprising.

The plop. The shuffle. The slimy trail of blood left behind by their scuttling forward.From the belt loop, you grabbed that iron pipe. It was your best friend in this alien world, it seemed. It also kept them away.With a sold sound, a mushroom went flying. Then three of them. Then four more. Like a game of rapid golf, you swung and swung at them. Soon, the crowd had been decimated, and you were panting. Sliding down against a wall, your breath heavy, you laughed again.

Things were going to be a lot harder from now on.


End file.
